It’s easier than you may imagine to locate and pick up a prostitute. In the digital age, so many services have been expedited, convenience the ruling principle, and the same can be said about the world’s oldest profession. Continue reading “Imitates Art (Pt. 6)”
The next morning, Nick Laflin was driving down Route 6 from his vacation house off the shores of beautiful Lake Wiladongun, to Rosedale, in order to pick up some fishing supplies and maybe even a breakfast sandwich while he was at it. Nick had taken a week off from work using his saved vacation days, and that meant he and his family would be spending the entire time relaxing on the serene waters of the lake. Continue reading “Harbinger (Pt. 10)”
My alarm rings. I wake up.
It’s Wednesday. It’s time for Murderers Anonymous. Continue reading “Murderers Anonymous (Pt. 7)”
Michael led his friends through his home towards front door. Philip asked if the others would be joining him for golf the next day, to which Aiden responded yes and Michael no. Philip and Michael chatted about the reasons why, none of which Aiden took in as he hurried toward the front door. Michael’s house was expansive; with the excess amount of furniture and decorations Mrs. Sallow had thrown about her home it was practically a labyrinth. Continue reading “Gentleman’s Game (Pt. 2)”
I park in my normal spot at the hospital and walk the short distance to visitor parking. I scan the area for Robin and I see her walking between two cars. She stops, looking around quickly, before kneeling and doing something to one of the vehicle’s tire. I hear a hissing sound whiz through the night as I head in her direction. Continue reading “Terminal (Pt. 7)”
“So, did you fuck her?” Philip asked, the light of the fire casting flickering shadows over his face. He looked like a child awaiting the ending of a campfire story; simultaneously eager and hesitant to hear the conclusion of Michael’s tale. Continue reading “Gentleman’s Game (Pt. 1)”
“So what’s the deal?” Christine asks before taking another hefty gulp of her margarita.
“You’re a lush,” Julie says playfully, pointing to the nearly empty class.
Christine sets it down on the bar before responding, “and you’re avoiding my question.” Continue reading “Suicide Jack (Pt. 3)”